Decision Fatigue

I just read an article claiming that people living alone suffer greatly from “decision fatigue.” Apparently, there are 35,000 decisions each person makes every day, and though that number seems to be accepted, no one knows how that number came to be established.

A lot of those “decisions” sound like habit to me. To hit the snooze alarm or get out of bed immediately. To take a morning shower or to brush one’s teeth. To drink one or more cups of coffee. To drive to work or take the bus. All things people do by rote.

Some decisions, such as what to wear, are also by rote, because whether they know it or not, people tend to wear uniforms, such as business attire when going to work or jeans and a top when staying home.

Most of my decisions lie in the category of habit, which is why I blog every day — I don’t need to make a decision about whether to post something. I just do it. I sometimes need to make a decision about what to write, but I generally just go with whatever flows. (Unfortunately for you, it adds another decision to your list — read or not read.) Nor do I have a lot of decisions to make when it comes to food. My meals are simple and getting simpler all the time because of food concerns and a growing aversion to cooking complicated (and not so complicated) dishes.

I am on a watering and yard maintenance schedule, which also removes the need to make decisions. When I see something in passing that needs done, I do it immediately, which saves on having to make a decision later. Of those hypothetical 35,000 decisions that people make every day, I consciously make a dozen. Maybe less. Even the decisions I do make, such as whether to play a game or read are instinctual. When I get bored reading, I play. When I get bored playing, I read.

I tend to think this is the same with a lot of retired people. Working life, of course, would heap decisions on people, decisions they would probably not want to make but have to, but the article wasn’t about the difference in decision fatigue between working people vs. retirees. It was about how people living alone are more at risk for decision fatigue.

The article postulated that those who live alone have to make all the decisions in the household. One example the writer gave was coming home from work. If you live alone, you have to decide what to eat, as well as make all the decisions that come with meal preparation. If you live with someone, that person might have a meal ready or could help decide what to fix and when to fix. That’s when the claims in that article fell apart for me. I couldn’t help but think of all the single parents who come home from work, have to cook dinner, have to take care of the kids, have to do all sorts of things and make all sorts of decisions that people living alone don’t do. Sometimes, if it’s a two-parent household, one person does have a meal prepared, but that isn’t always the case. And sometimes one, or even both, have many more decisions to make than single people because more people in the household means more people to make decisions about. Making those decisions also takes way more time and energy because of all the needed discussion.

Luckily for me, I live a simple life. Most of my major decisions, such as where to live, have been made. And since I live alone, if I don’t want to make a decision, I don’t. There is that old saying, “not to decide is to decide,” but for sure, not deciding takes a lot less energy, especially for someone like me who generally doesn’t care whatever way a decision might go. Of course, not caring about the result of a decision leads to other issues, such as inability to do anything that requires a decision to be made because it’s almost impossible to decide between two equal situations.

Still, that’s something to worry about another day. Or not.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Agonizing Decisions that Take Us Nowhere

Sometimes the most agonizing decisions — decisions that are supposed to take us in a new direction — end up taking us nowhere at all, and we wonder why the decision was so difficult.

As I mentioned before, a friend talked me into joining an online dating site. I didn’t want to do it — I’m not ready for any sort of serious relationship, and maybe never will be. I’m still getting to know this new “alone” me. She pointed out that I dialoguedidn’t have to sign up to meet a new life mate, but could specify “friendship.” That seemed reasonable. I am always interested in making new friends. And since I spend so much time alone, I especially appreciate having people to do things with.

Still, it took an entire sleepless night three weeks ago to make the decision. And it was the sleeplessness that in the end made me realize I should take the step. If the decision was so unimaginable that I couldn’t get my mind around it, I figured it would be good for me to make that leap. I know what is imaginable. I’ve imagined it. But a whole world lies beyond my imaginings, and to get where I need to go (a place that is as yet undefined since it lies in the realm of the unimagined), I need to do the unimaginable.

So, I signed up. Spent a lot of time working on my profile. Told my current truth as well as I knew it and as charmingly as I could. In one of the sections I wrote:

I am happy, kind, confident, intelligent. I smile a lot, laugh easily, seldom get angry, and appreciate those same qualities in others. More than anything, I love learning, meeting new people, sampling new foods, trying new activities. The desert fascinates me, so I spend a lot of time hiking in the nearby knolls.

I’ve lived a quiet life — mostly reading, crafts, watching movies, writing. Now I’m interested in being more active and trying out all the things I haven’t had a chance to do before — dancing, bowling, miniature golf, hiking, archery, whatever comes to mind. I’d like to lead a more adventuresome life in a non-perilous sort of way. Even going to lunch somewhere I’ve never been could be such an adventure. What would make all this more fun is to have someone to be adventuresome with.

I’d planned to blog about my encounters, both online and offline, in case there were other older people out there taking a hesitant dip into the dating pool, but there have been no encounters. I figured the site would be like a social networking site, where people messaged each other, trying to get a dialogue going, but nothing is going on except that several dozen people have checked out my profile. Like a middle school dance, the boys seem to be milling around, checking out the girls, while the girls just stand there, trying not to be caught checking out the boys but hoping someone will notice them.

Since I’m not one to just stand around and wait (at least, not anymore), I’ve written dozens of messages, but no one responded. It’s possible the men on the site aren’t computer savvy and don’t know how to respond. It’s possible they aren’t interested. It’s possible they are waiting for inspiration or waiting to fall in love with a photo. I have no idea since no one is talking.

To be honest, I’m okay with this. I don’t particularly want to date, don’t want to flirt with the possibility of falling in love. I do feel silly, though, about spending a sleepless night, steeling myself to make what turned out to be such a non-momentous decision, but perhaps the decision was the important step, and what has come after is trivial.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.